Her Face In The Moon
by AcronymsAnonymous
Summary: AU which is basically the Merlin universe but the theories of magic are pretty different and the Old Religion isn't so much as not mentioned as much as maybe doesn't quite exist. Involves some Merthur, some Morgana, some Morgause, and some Mordred.


Morgana was given over to Morgause two weeks after the death of her father. It was hardly much of a trip from the rainless forests of Mercia to the cavernous chambers of Daobeth but it did take time for the news to travel Eastward as it did and longer so for Cenred's knights to find her where she hid from them in the back of a creek-side cave. She was eleven years old then, and it became immediately apparent to them that she had not been hiding in the cave but trapped there, a victim of her father's intense apprehension of an outside world which he knew too well to be cruel. He was among the key few to make it that way. At one time an agent and at a later time an enemy of Morgause, though that information was none Morgana or Morgause were privy to. Uther Pendragon was not a kind man; he would switch his affiliations and names as easily and swiftly as one might change their socks. But he did love his daughter, and it might be said that it was his love that ruined her. For out of his love for her was born the desire to keep her protected, from herself and from others, so he kept her within and taught her to see in the dark. It must have been an unimaginably boring childhood, with only whatever toys and things he brought back to her from his frequent visits out and nobody to talk to besides her father who was more often gone than there with her. Of course, with nothing to compare it to, it must have been alright. Even still she was raised into a strange child. Her hair was dark and her skin was shadowy and pale against the dim and distance light of the stars. Her eyes took hours to adjust to the light and she spoke no words as she was marched along beside them. "Your father is dead," they told her, and she did not cry.

They made it to the kingdom walls before sunrise, so she was not tormented by the light of day which she had never seen before. The fire blooming at the hearth in the throne room was hardly new to her, she'd seen fires before. But the colors were new to her, reds and greens and yellows trapped in faded banners strung across the walls. She was presented to Morgause then.

"You are Morgana?" Morgause asked. She sat on the marble steps at Cenred's feet, for it was his kingdom though she controlled it.

"Yes." Morgana said, and it was the first word she uttered in the great halls of that castle and later in life it was spoken again as her last farewell to the kingdom walls.

"Your father was a stupid man and he died a mortal death at the hands of mortal men." Morgause said. "Had he told you that you were not of mortal blood?"

"No." Morgana said.

"You and I are similar. In both of our blood runs the same power. I wish for you to explore this power and rise to your full potential as my head advisor and to join me in the solidarity of immortality." Morgause said. "Would you care to give us a demonstration?"

"Of this power you say I have?" Morgana asked. "I have none."

"You do, I can see it. It shines from your skin like candle light." Morgause said. "But if you say you do not have it, I will believe that you are ignorant and that we may coax it from you later. You have been marching all night and have not eaten for days, my men will show you to the dining hall and to your chambers afterwards."

Morgana ate and slept and she was hidden away in a windowless tower which suited her just fine. Her room was a wide attic in the cone-shaped roof of it and she walked down to Morgause's chambers each day immediately after waking and she sat there until she was dismissed, serving her and listening to her breathe, not because that was what she chose for herself but because that was commanded of her. When she turned twelve, she showed the first signs of womanhood, and to commemorate the event her ears were pierced and she was given a new wardrobe and a bracelet for each wrist: one a silver double headed snake with sharp fangs that hooked together for the clasp, the other a thinly stretched iron wolf stretched twice around the circle of her wrist, both with an oval gap in the middle of the side closest to her pulse that was filled with a smoothly carved red jewel to promote the flow of magics. That was the year she learned to start a fire by shaping her hands. Morgause was pleased.

Though kept and trained at a higher class, Morgana still did the duties of a Servant, and it was through her trips to collect food from the kitchen and deliver dirty clothes to the washroom that she heard whispers and talk from others about Morgause. Morgause, an agent of evil. One of the most powerful beings in all the realms. But Morgana knew her to float around her chambers and be quiet, speaking few words throughout the day. She knew her to have infrequent changes in temperament that could transform her. She was never fair and she was never kind, she did everything for her own purposes and though she appeared to have some soft spot for Morgana in her heart, that may have been superficial, because during the rarer times she became angry she locked Morgana up or beat her and there was nothing Morgana had done to make her that way and there was nothing Morgana could do to stop her. Morgause was as pale skinned as Morgana but with hollower cheeks and white hair and white eyes. She was the earth, emptied and stripped by the greedy and cruel hand of men and greedy and cruel for the things she had lost that she wanted returned to her. She would make the ground and the wind and the storms clear away castles and towns of her enemies and she would make trees and life take over the soil above their rotting corpses until everything was returned to how she envisioned it to be. She was the earth, and the power of the earth was hers, and she had chosen Morgana to live eternally beside her as all other humans failed and suffered by her hands and the hands of time. She could not be killed and she should not be killed. While foolish men might have tried to kill her none with any of the power to complete the task did so, because of the knowledge that it would cause the end-times all. Morgause was the earth.

"I was borne out of fire and raised through ice and neither time was unpleasant. I have carried the fate of species and I have helped the rise of mankind, something I have not yet decided to regret." Morgause said. "Feel my wrist, Morgana. My bones are made of metal and stone and my blood is filled with water. My flesh is caked on like mud, I do not breathe through it in the same way that you do." Morgana felt Morgause's wrist, and it was a gradient of temperatures moving beneath her fingers. Like icebergs riding a wave of molten down a stream. "I am exposing my nature to you now in this moment, but I have full control over all matters of my body and the earth around me. This is what power you wield when you learn to control your gifts. You will never have the same power as me, because I was created to control all nature, but you have a gift and your gift is powerful and I will train you to be my counterpart."

Morgana learned to speak more in the years that followed, and she dressed in bright colors on some days and in dark tones on others. Her hair was never cut and it grew out long, past her hips, and she tied it back with small pieces of thin rope to keep it from catching on things. By the time she turned sixteen, she had learned to create thick air and wind, cool that swept through the chambers and heat that roasted knights in their chain mail. Each change in temperature and each stir of wind and change in humidity registered in her brain, it clung to her senses. But none of it was unpleasant to her, just different from the last.

And so on her twentieth birthday Morgause told her that there was something she needed to experience and she stripped her of her clothes and bound her wrists and tied a cloth around her eyes so that all she could do was feel with her skin and she led her out of the castle, into the daylight.

"What do you feel, Morgana?" Morgause asked.

"It's like nothing I've felt before and yet it feels familiar." Morgana said. "Like a pulsing heat from a fire, but fuller."

"There's more than that." Morgause said. "Describe it."

"A light sifting around me, adjusting as I move. Like a mold with me printed in it. And you, you're over there. There's sifting between us. It's the same as in the chambers, but easier and lighter. And a kind of dampness settling with the sifting, rubbing on my skin." Morgana said.

"But there's something else that you've always felt." Morgause said. "Tell me."

"A trembling something, of no temperature or consistency. I can feel it always, now less than other times." Morgana said. Morgause reached over and undid the blindfold and let Morgana adjust to the light.

Morgana took time, having never been outside in the daylight before and never being allowed by a window. There was something bright that could not be named, and a color that was not recognized.

"What is that color?" Morgana asked.

"Blue." Morgause said. "It's the color the sky gave the ocean, for I may control it and it may be in my realm and power but she has claimed it for her own."

"What is that sphere of light?" Morgana asked.

"The sun." Morgause said. "But more than light, it is energy and life."

"I can feel it." Morgana said. "I have always felt it, even with my father in the cave."

"That's because you are not a mere man." Morgause said. "You were born on the strike of lightning that killed your mother and the heat wave that killed all the crops of the south. You are not ashamed of your mother's death, I can tell, nor should you be. You were born because the sun had decided it was time for your slot to be filled."

"I'm sure I am not the first to fill this slot." Morgana said. "You were created and forged like a sword or a crown, I was born as a human."

"You're smart, I commend you for that." Morgause said. "You are not the first to fill your slot, but I hope to make you the last. I will claim immortality for you, and then you will claim it for yourself."

Morgana was lead back to the castle and directed to new chambers, underground. She was told that she no longer was required to preform the servant duties, and was assigned a young woman as a servant for herself. The only thing she had her do was braid her long hair and coil it around her head like a crown.

Morgana was weather. She could control the breath of the air around her and twirl a breeze around her finger, she could thin the air and move the shadows and let the heat rake over the lands. She could roll a storm across the lands. Which was why she was kept in an underground room, away from her domain of power; the sky. Just as Morgause kept herself in a tower, away from her lands; the earth. But Morgause did these things out of millennia of experience and trial and error. She spent so long trying to save the world she lived in only to learn that it could not be saved, because unlike her it changed every day. But Morgause should have known not to try and contain the weather, even if it were for her own protection, for the weather changes with the world and containing it was never a good idea. On her twenty first birthday, driven mad from the confines and separation from the outdoors and from her kingdom of the sky, she went to Morgause and begged to be released.

This timing was quite perfect, because for the past hundred years there had been trouble brewing in the ranks of men and Morgause, believing herself to be the queen of all men, decided that they must have a new leader to lead them as men, for Morgause may have been their queen but she was no man nor did she know how to teach them to behave with peace as to not disturb her. So sat by the food of Cenred's throne and told Morgana, "There is a man frozen in stone, he has been as such for a hundred years, in a state of sleep. He was and is still the best mankind has ever offered, and as they begin to fail it is time for him to rise again. He is far north, the farthest north that the five kingdoms of Albion will allow within their ranks. You will find Camelot, the city built around him, and you will tell his keeper that it is time. This is only a courtesy to her, for she will be glad to hear that he will walk this earth again, for you will be the one with the magic powerful enough to revive him and you will be the one to wake him and tell him of his mission. He will lead mankind to greatness again. Will you do this for me?" Morgause asked.

"Yes." Morgana said, and she departed from that spot instantly. Her gown was a gleaming golden of some thin and strong material that flowed around her hips and legs and trailed out behind her, dipping out over the edge of the cloud she rode over the forest lands. When she came to the countryside and the small villages on the outskirts of all kingdoms she walked and she was disguised with the blend of golden wheats around her. She saw the way peasants and noblemen alike feared her and she revered in it, for though they did not know who she was they felt the energy and power of her presence. She loved walking through the countryside and grasslands, and the freedom they brought to her to play with winds and storms and heat. It took seven days for her to arrive at Camelot, and when she did she was surprised.

The first eleven years of her life were spent huddled in the back corner of a cave, the next ten were spent inside a castle, hardly speaking to any of the other servants and hardly with any chance to talk to or see another person besides her own servant and Morgause. Even then, all she told her servant to do was braid her hair (it was still braided on that day she arrived in Camelot, and still wrapped and piled like a crown). None of these things prepared her for the show of human life that was Camelot.

Everywhere there were people tending their booths in the market, buying and selling, managing their goats and their children. It was overwhelming. She reached her hand out and caught herself on the big grey city wall as she fell. Someone asked her if she was alright, tentatively, and she managed to keep at bay her sudden and strong will to bring down rain upon the market, and she got up and walked onwards.

A little girl gave a flower to her, white and delicate, and she gave the air at it's stem something extra to make it further bloom. She tucked it into her braid and moved forwards.

It was not hard to find the statue at the center of the city, just in front of the large castle steps. It was large and seated, a crowned man upon his throne. The top of her head barely reached his knee as she stood next to it and looked down to read the inscription at the plaque on the base. '_The past king of Camelot and the leader of all men/ A knight not swayed in the face of danger/ The beloved Arthur, to be given back to the earth in a deliverance from the heavens/ To defend his people even in death_.'

"What do you think it means?" asked a man standing next to the statue. Arthur, as the statue was called. This man looked cheerful, his cheek was rested on his fist as he leaned against the side of the throne.

"He's alive." Morgana said. "And someday it will be the will of the gods that wakes him and he will be human again."

"Something like that, yeah." The man said. He was young, with skin less pale than Morgana's though still pale and hair not as dark as hers though still dark. He must have been about her age by his looks, but with the way he appraised the statue above and beside him he might have been much older.

"Are you the keeper?" she asked. His spine stiffened and his gaze turned colder.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Morgana, though some might know me as the weather." she said. "I am here to wake him."

"Why?" he asked. "I don't see any kingdoms that needs any serious saving right now."

"He is to save mankind and deliver them to glory." Morgana said.

"Glory comes both with triumph and defeat. It comes with perils. He does not need to reawaken for that." he said.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"I am Merlin, though some may know me as Emrys." he said.

"I am here on a mission from my own keeper, Morgause. I do not intend to do wrong by her on any counts." Morgana said.

"Ah, Morgause. Then this mission you're on is for no purpose but her own. Leave now."

"Are you really so dedicated to keeping to the words binding him to sleep?" Morgana asked. "Do you not want to see him walk again? It seems as though you knew him in his waking hours."

"It seems we must have a talk then, you want to know my story and I will tell you because I suspect yours is one of ignorance." Merlin said. The wind grew strong and threw leaves around the both of them. "But you must try to understand."

"I will." Morgana said. Merlin led her to his home where an old man sat stirring potions. Was he older than Merlin? Younger? Merlin and Morgana sat away from him, at the dining table.

"You are the weather, Morgause is the earth, but who is man other than himself?" Merlin asked. "I am man along with mankind, I am a warlock of humanity. There are some warlocks who are of animals, there are some of different trees and some of different ideas even, but I am a warlock of humanity. You are a high priestess or something of the likes, you take over an element and that element responds to your control and your control only. You become that element in your person and act without human instinct and without most human desire. Warlocks are different, we are not born to control. We are born with magic and then we choose to serve. If we do not serve, we lose our magic over time. I chose to serve humanity.

"There are several Warlocks of humanity, because it is a hard subject to choose to protect. As long as our subject lives, we live, as long as we are not killed in battle or otherwise. We will not age out." Merlin said. "So I will die as the last human dies."

"And Morgause is immortal." Morgana said. "But she speaks of claiming immortality for me?"

"Morgause will live as long as the earth needs her, which may be forever. But you will not live forever." Merlin said. "Over time, the weather changes. It takes on new personalities as time passes. One person cannot sustain its needs forever, they must be replaced."

"So we control our element in some ways but in more ways than not it controls us?" Morgana asked.

"Yes, smart girl. Warlocks and priestesses are not so different, only in some basic principles. I cannot control men, and there are several like me who also serve mankind. Our magic is designed to serve them, while your magic is designed to become that which you 'serve', so to speak. It's a bit more complicated than that, and not so easily explained."

"You have done well." Morgana said. "But why, pray tell, do you not welcome the awakening of the stone man?"

"He has seen and suffered much in his lifetime." Merlin said. "He does not need to bear that burden once again."

"But I have been sent here to awaken him, and I will not leave without doing my job."

"Then do not leave. Stay here."

"I am the weather, Merlin. I'm sure you know that I was not meant to stay but to wander. I see that now, after my traveling." she said.

"Reconsider." Merlin said. "Reconsider, he does not need to come to life again and suffer at the hands of the world."

"You knew him." Morgana said. "You knew him well."

"Very well." he said. "And I care about him still, so I'm begging you– please."

She did not listen. She marched to the courtyard and behind her slithered the browning tail of her golden dress. As she raised her hands just above her head her sleeves fell down to her elbows. Merlin ran out after her and tried to push her away. But she was younger than he was, and more foolish, so she let the wind sweep him to the side and let a carelessly toppling cart pin him there, out of the way. She raised her palms to the sky and moved them in circle motions, and in response dark storm clouds gathered above her. A rainless and brief thunderstorm. The citizens nearby crowded away from her, repelled by this force she carried about her figure and projected in all directions. And then she swept the edges of her palms by her little fingers out from the bridge of her nose to her temples, and then with a swift movement of her arms in a forward direction a single lightning bolt struck down on the crown of the statue man, and the storm clouds faded into nothing.

The kingdom around her was humming with silence as they watched him transform. The statue fell forward out of his throne, Morgana smirked as he was on his hands and knees to her. His head was bowed down and he started to change, pieces of concrete flaking off like paint and thinning into withering gasps of black smoke. Slowly, as the layers of flakes brought the exterior of the statue man closer to a man-size, color appeared and tinted his hair, his cheeks, his eyes. Finally the last layer of stone shattered from him and he threw back his head and gasped into the bright afternoon sun.

"I'm revived?" he asked. "I must take up arms then, to defend my kingdom."

"No, you shall do none of that sort." Morgana said. "You shall return the kingdom to it's old ways and preserve the honor of mankind until your death."

"There is nothing to defend, my awakening has been of someone's intention– where is Merlin?" Arthur asked. Morgana swept him over to where they talked, and taking in the sight of him Arthur frowned.

"Arthur." Merlin said, and he sounded as if the breath had been taken from him. His eyes opened wide to see him and his arms shook at his sides.

There was a long and tense silence before they embraced, and when they came apart Arthur's teardrops had soaked through the cloth on Merlin's shoulder.

"It's good to see you again." Arthur said.

"I've missed you." Merlin said.

One hundred years they'd spent apart, and as much as Merlin was tormented by the pain of separation, the knowledge that Arthur deserved this time kept him at bay. But of course Merlin was furious with Morgana, furious but overwhelmed.

Merlin, with all of his heart, loved Arthur.

Arthur's story started simple and grew more complicated as time went on. He was born as a regular human child is born, and he grew up under his father's watchful gaze and the expectations of him that he would be a good king. He acquired a servant in his teenage years, much by accident but more so by fate, and it was through the acquisition of this servant that the kingdom learned Arthur was never to bear a child. This was because Merlin was the servant and he and Arthur fell deeply in love, Arthur rescued him from peril on several accounts and Merlin protected him with his own magics. But Merlin had already dedicated himself as a warlock, and so becoming immortal lest he should take his own life or be killed. He would live for thousands of years, while Arthur would live only the span of a mortal life. When he was twenty five, after three years of peace in the kingdom, Arthur was slain in battle. Merlin was at his side, and sculpted his dying breath into a jar to hold his spirit. Magic was preformed that could only be preformed at a death bed, and Arthur was preserved. Every day of those hundred years that Merlin spent without him was lived with the knowledge that someday he would see Arthur again, for he was not truly dead. But as Morgana woke Arthur, she also killed him, and doomed him to live out the rest of his life unpreserved, and Merlin would have to suffer years past Arthur's death with no hope.

Arthur was known as the Once and Future king. This would be the last generation he knew. None of it seemed right to Merlin, which resulted in a long conversation with his advisor, Gaius. Gaius had been the court physician for more years than anyone cared to count. No one could ever be quite certain wether or not he had been gifted immortality, except for Merlin, who knew that Gaius was a warlock of herbs, lots of little specific herbs all at once.

Arthur went to the castle and was welcomed back to the throne by his placeholder, Mordred. Though Arthur had been a popular king he had also been dead for a full century and it would have been expected if Mordred had put up a fight against his return. And there had been some mild struggle, but over all it seemed that Mordred was aware that if he did not let Arthur become king once more the people might claw him to death. And then he returned to his old king's chambers, which had been left in place out of respect and anticipation, and thought as he lay about how wrong it could be considered for him to rob Mordred of his throne.

Meanwhile, Morgana made a nice cloud for herself and lay watching the city and the mess she had created.

And Merlin went to Gaius for help. He dropped whatever he'd been holding in his hand straight on the ground upon entry, and said, "He's back."

"Who is?" Gaius asked.

"Arthur. Arthur's back." Merlin said.

"Really?" Gaius asked. "Is the kingdom in any great need?"

"No." Merlin said. "He was awoken out of selfish wishes, by Morgana."

"Morgana." Gaius said. "I may have read that name before."

"She's the weather, for the time being." Merlin said.

"Oh yes, she shan't last very long." Gaius said. "I liked the last one, what was her name? I've forgotten."

"She was on a mission from Morgause." Merlin said. Gaius let out a deep sigh.

"When will that one stop making trouble for everyone? It's quite irritating."

"You don't seem very concerned." Merlin accused. He sat down and stared Gaius deep in the eyes.

"It was always fated that change would come this century. Could Arthur be the change? The kingdom has been at peace since his death, his successors have carried his advice, wishes, warnings, all of that, they've carried all that he wanted very well. With the exception of a few minor slip ups here and there, I'd say we've stayed fairly successful. Perhaps Arthur's arrival will change that."

"Are you saying that Arthur will throw his people into war? He would _never_ do that."

"I'm not saying that exactly, I'm just saying that the return of an old legend could spark something in the people."

"I don't think he should be awake now. I really don't. It's not the time, we don't– we don't _need _him yet. And then what happens when we really do need him? He'll probably– He won't be able to help us." Merlin said. He looked down at his hands.

"I think you're just afraid of his mortality." Gaius said.

"And shouldn't I be?" Merlin asked.

"You're afraid of what will happen when he dies." Gaius said. "Not to the people, but to you. Merlin, I realize there was an intended purpose for his sleep and the whole making him into a statue deal, but can't you just celebrate the fact that you can talk to him and see him once more? Does it really have to be a bad thing?" Merlin started sniffling.

"Gaius, I– He has, he had, _one_ chance at living again. And what if we're wasting it! What if, what if–" Merlin said. Gaius looked at him, an affectionate look. Merlin really did behave as he looked– the foolish nineteen year old he had once been.

"Merlin, then you must at the very least make his life a good life. I'm sure you're capable of that." Gaius said. He turned for a moment to start cutting things, cutting herbs, and then he heard Merlin's broken sob behind him.

There were many things Merlin could have said at that moment, when Gaius turned to him. There were many thoughts he was thinking. The first was, 'I can't lose him again'. The second was, 'When we lose him this time, he won't be sleeping'. And the third was that immortality had become the ultimate punishment. But all he said was, "I'm going to bed. I think I just need to sleep on the idea." This sentence was as lie and the biggest lie he ever told, because he would not sleep on that idea and he would not go to bed that night. Instead, like the teenager he seemed to still be, he climbed from his window and walked. Morgana, watching from the clouds, perked up with interest and set a light breeze to move her forward at a similar pace to Merlin. Merlin was not pacing because he had a set destination, but he was thinking and walking in a similarly detached manner.

Merlin was not one to let sleeping dogs lie. If there might be a problem, then there was probably a solution too, and Merlin could think of at least two main problems at that moment, one being that Arthur was not immortal and two being that he was. The first and most obvious desirable solution would be to make Arthur immortal; he would live with Merlin forever and be the greatest leader of men the world ever knew and everything would be happy. The setback in this solution was that no mortal man could be made immortal. Through his warlock practices, Merlin had become immortal for most intents and purposes, but to become a warlock one must first have magic, and Arthur did not have magic. The second problem had a much easier though slightly less desirable solution: Merlin would die. He would kill himself by Arthur's deathbed, thus ending his immortality. But if he could remove his own magic powers and live as a regular human and age out along with Arthur, that would be far preferable. Magic had always been a part of him, but he was willing to sacrifice it to be with Arthur. There were only a few people he could think of who could tell him how to do either of those things, since both of them were beyond the simple education in magic he'd gotten from Gaius's books.

Morgana noticed something from the cloud above. A man walking behind Merlin, twenty paces or so. Quiet, sneaky. He was following him. This could be interesting. She raked her hair out of the braid and lowered herself to the ground behind him.

"Hello." she said. He turned.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"That's not a very fair way to greet a lady." she said. "I like it. I'm Morgana. And you?"

"You really have to ask?" he said. She stared at him with raised eyebrows. "I'm Mordred, I was the king's stand-in for a while."

"And what brings you here on this fine night? I see you're following Merlin." she said. "Where _is_ he going?"

"I'm not following him." he said.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. "I was watching you."

"I'm not following him, I'm just. Going to the same place he is, probably." Mordred said.

"And that would be... in the middle of the woods, on the outskirts of the kingdom?" she asked.

"It seems that way." he said. "What are _you _doing here?"

"You're awful young to have been in charge of a country." she said.

"You're not answering my question."

"I'm surprised you haven't thrown me in prison yet, most kings are like that." she said. "Won't tolerate the kind of insolence I say."

"I'm not a king anymore." he said. "And I think I like you."

"Oh really?" she asked. "So is that why you're out following Merlin?"

"Why?"

"You want to be king again."

"No, we're genuinely going to the same place."

"Then where are you going?" she asked.

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"I could make you tell me." she said.

"Could you? Because it doesn't really look like it."

"Oh, I'm a dangerous woman."

"Can you prove that?"

"Are you sure you want me to?"

"Definitely."

"Alright." She moved her hands to the side, in a graceful motion much resembling that of a dancer, and at her fingertips the air hummed with energy. Static, just waiting to be used. Then the tree there started to flame as she applied that energy directly. And then she removed it, removed it all, sucked it straight up into her being, and shot it towards the sky in a display of lightning.

"Merlin probably knows there's someone behind him now." she said. "In any case, I think you should tell me where you're going."

"You're a sorceress!" he said.

"Haven't you seen magic before?"

"Plenty of times, just not like that."

"Yes, I'm very powerful."

"And modest also, I see."

"What are you out to do tonight?"

He sighed and said, "I want to be king."

"I knew it!" she said.

"I was raised to be king, I have all the proper training, I've been doing very well so far, I'd been pretty well liked."

"But then Arthur comes back." she said.

"Yes, exactly! Arthur comes back and I have to give up the throne and serve him for the rest of my life." he said.

"You could marry a queen somewhere. That's a fast way to success."

"Yes, I'm looking for something along the lines of that."

"Or you could kill him."

"I'm not such a fan of that idea."

"Oh, please. Murder is fun." she said. He looked at her.

"That's not a good thing to say."

"No, it probably isn't." she said.

Merlin, ahead of them, finally came to his destination.

The Lake of Avalon, shimmering blue under the light of the stars. He takes the rowboat that is perpetually waiting at the banks and heads for the Isle of the Blessed. The boat rocks him gently and he moves slowly to not disturb the resting spirits there. When his boat finally scrapes the rocky beach of the island he climbs out. At one point in the future or past, it may have contained ruins, but this Isle contained only a grove of trees. All of these trees were green and flowering, the ground underneath was soft and had little jagged stones placed here and there. Merlin headed straight for the center.

In the center there was a little pond, bluer than any other water, with a rock in the middle, and on that rock grew a tree, with twisted, gnarled, black roots. The whole tree was like that, and it shaped itself almost like a claw, in the palm of which sat a woman.

She was shapely and her skin was dark yet inherently luminous, her hair curly and black and wild in a friendly way. Her dress held all the properties of water, as if it had been poured down her head, thin strips of droplets running and splitting all the way down her body from her head. It wasn't much of a dress but it covered what it needed to and it was easy to forget that it was cloth with the way it shifted, as if a small trickle constantly poured down her from her head.

She was the moon, and her eyes were round and complacent. She did not keep herself separate from the sky or the air. The moon is a seer. She does not act or react, she listens and sees and knows. She does not control things. She is immortal, she will die when it is time for her to die but until then nothing will hurt her.

The earth did not change, the weather changed within the mortal lifetime usually, and the moon changed just an amount past that. She did not age, she did not eat, she did not sleep, but she did die when it was time for her to die, usually past three hundred years, and then she was replaced.

This moon's name was Guinevere, and she first sat in the palm of the tree when Merlin was just first starting off as Arthur's servant. She was a serving girl too, a common but sweet child. She was Arthur's first love, and then one day she told everyone that she had higher orders to attend to and never came back. Arthur's heart was broken, and every time Merlin saw her his eyes filled with tears. She used to be so kind and sweet, he thought. Perhaps she still was. But the moon only awoke at night, when the colors were black and the air was cold, so she forgot real colors and she forgot the feeling of the sunlight on her skin and eventually, she forgot Arthur too.

"Who is Arthur?" she asked, her eyes staring vacantly into the night. Her seeing rendered her blind. Every time, she would ask who Arthur was.

"Arthur is the king of Camelot." Merlin said.

"Yes, he is the king. The Once and Future king. But who is he to Gwen? He's special to her, he loved her– But what was the feeling? The feeling was love, but how did it feel?" she asked. She spoke slowly, every word came out slowly, every syllable was slow.

"He loved you." Merlin said. He blinked his eyes several times to try and dry them or in some way expel the sadness. "He loved you very much, you were his first love, and it felt like happiness and floating and being a princess."

"Yes, yes. I remember now. He loves you too, Merlin. Emrys. You are here to ask a question, two questions, and the first one is impossible and the second is necessary."

"I was going to ask if it is in any way possible to make men immortal and that's the first one which you just said no to, okay, I probably didn't even need to say that out loud but I'm just clearing this up for myself. The second one is necessary? It's necessary that I become mortal?" he asked.

"When time was born, the universe created magic as a way to take care of itself and put into motion all of the things that needed to happen in order for life to be successful. Life is the essence of the universe, the universe only exists if there's life there to observe it. In years to come there will be a silly question people ask each other: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? The answer is no. Things are only so because life perceives them. The universe must exist and must be observed, hence the creation of life. Magic was born to help the universe in all matters and to protect all life from harm. Warlocks protecting their subjects, women becoming elements of life to convey their meanings and to sustain them. But this means magic is dispensable in the case that the universe finally falls into place the way it was intended to. It has done this. Magic is no longer necessary for the universe to sustain itself and soon, it will end."

"Soon?" Merlin asked. "How soon? And what will happen to the warlocks and the women element sorceress people?"

"Each of them has a separate fate and a separate destiny." she said. "For the most part, you will resume life at your physical age. Nineteen years old. Gaius will resume at his, sixty-two. Most of the warlocks as well. Some will die, with no magic to sustain them. They are too old, they have lived too long. I know this is what you were hoping for, to live out a mortal life. You may not be too pleased by the future, however."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked. "How soon? What will happen?"

"Your time with me is over. Another wishes to speak to me and I shall allow him to do so. There is no more information it would be wise for me to depart unto you. Goodbye, Emrys."

Merlin crept away, unsatisfied, and stared at Mordred as he passed the boat over. Mordred was not one he trusted in the slightest. In fact, he hated him out of suspicion.

Mordred and Morgana climbed into the boat together and set off for the isle. Gwen did not wait for them to start talking.

"Mordred and Morgana, hello. Both of you will ask something within the realm of your destinies. The world is changing, and you will set this change into motion by doing what you most desire. I am not pleased by the outcome or the actions, but they must happen and they will be part of history forever. Camelot will change rule, and it will prevail as a great Kingdom. That is as much as I can tell you. Now go, I will not see you any longer." They left, and there might have been a wetness in the corner of Gwen's eye.

The moon came from water, it fell dripping from the ocean and positioned itself in the sky, to always watch the waves at night. Gwen was born from the water too, from tears that should not have been shed and from pools that she swam in. She was the moon.

"Mordred," Morgana said, "Did you hear what she said? The moon, she said Camelot will change rule. She said that it would be successful. That means you, Mordred."

"But how?" he asked. "Arthur is the king now, and he is a good king."

"Kill him." she said. "Are you a man? Are you capable? Do you want to rule?"

"I do," he said, "But he does not deserve to die."

"You're afraid of getting your hands dirty." she said.

"I'm not." he said. "You need to leave."

"But I won't." she said. "I'm only here to help you take what you deserve. He trusts you well enough, and far too easily for hardly having spoken to him."

"It would be that easy, wouldn't it?" he asked.

The night that followed was the most important in history. Arthur rose again for his people's needs, but not just for their needs. He rose for the death of the immortal man, to fulfill the destiny of the world. When time was born, all destiny made itself, so it was written in the beginning that the death of the immortal man would be the end of the powerful magics and be the start of the day of man. Merlin was wrong.

In the middle of the night, he entered the castle and entered Arthur's chambers. Few words had been exchanged between them, Arthur had just returned. He loved Arthur, he could not wait until morning. The forces of life compelled him forward. He saw Morgana plunge the knife into Arthur's peaceful, sleeping chest. He took the blade from Arthur's wound and using the powers of the warlock of man he stabbed her and killed her. Mordred was not in the room. And then Merlin turned to Arthur and summoned whatever magic he could, but whatever power he had could not break through the chains and shackles of destiny.

He cried over Arthur's bed and held Arthur's hand.

"I love you." he said. "I will always love you."

"Merlin."

"I cannot go on without you, you have to stay with me–"

"I love you." Arthur said.

His eyes went blank.

Merlin screamed. He cried. He shouted. Morgana's blood still covered his hand, Arthur's blood was all over his chest. In that same moment, Morgause sucked in a deep gulp of breath and exhaled her own ash as she finally was subjected to millennia of easily avoided erosion. Gwen blinked and saw the first light of dawn spreading over the hillside and joined the spirits of Avalon. And then Merlin died a mortal death, fifty short years later that meant so much less to a nineteen year old who had seen more than a hundred years in his life. And life lived on to observe themselves and it watched it's handprint as it touched the universe and it felt the warmth as the universe touched back and until the death of time they felt the weight of keeping each-other alive.


End file.
